


See Through The Clouds

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Older Brother Verse [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Spanking, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Punishment, Spanking, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: "When Connor's in charge – whatever order he gives, you follow, Dean. Whatever decision he makes, you accept. A squad, a division, a company – they can never function in battle like they should when discipline and obedience aren't observed, or when the chain of command is broken. And neither can this family. So unless Connor mistreats you, you have no permission to go behind his back like you did. Is that clear?"
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Original Winchester Character(s), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, John Winchester & Original Winchester Character(s), John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Original Winchester Character(s)
Series: The Older Brother Verse [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1065803
Comments: 28
Kudos: 49





	See Through The Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> The story contains parental spanking of a minor and some language, if it isn't what you like - please don't read.
> 
> I strongly recommend you read [Beneath Your Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178313) before reading this story, as it will introduce you to this AU.
> 
> Thank you so much Script Doctor for the dialogue ideas, as usual; thanks a bundle for the beta and feedback to [happy_to_be_here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_to_be_here), [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti), [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda) and [alexofthegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofthegarden/pseuds/alexofthegarden)  
> 

When the cell phone rang, Connor wanted to let it just go on and on and on, until the battery failed. He would have, even though he knew it was Dad, and that the old man was going to be fucking furious if he didn't pick up; but both Dean and Sam were looking at him from where they were playing Go Fish at the coffee table. Connor sighed and flipped the phone open.

He listened to the few curt sentences his father delivered, and replied with an equally curt "yes, sir". Then he closed the phone and sighed again.

"Was that Dad?" Dean was talking quietly, but Connor could hear him loud and clear. He wished they had the TV or the radio blasting, or for the motel to have been on Main Street so the noise from outside would drown out Dean's question. But the room was still, aside from the faint sound of the wind making the window panes tremble occasionally.

"Yeah," Connor said. "Twenty minutes."

Dean didn't reply. He put his cards on the table, got up off the floor and walked toward the corner of the room near the bed he shared with Sam. On his way there, he stopped to crouch by his duffel. Connor couldn't see what he was doing, but he didn't have to; Dean was getting the strap ready for easy access when Dad asked for it.

Connor closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He opened them again to see Dean had gotten into position in the corner, standing with his spine straight and his hands behind his back, the way he was going to stay until Dad dismissed him.

Connor was still watching Dean when Sam suddenly appeared by his side; Connor didn't even notice his baby brother had moved to the kitchen table where Connor was sitting.

"You're gonna talk to Dad about it, aren't you?" Sam asked. His tone was a little bit hopeful, and a little bit like he was on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, Sammy, I will."

Sam nodded, and Connor reached to brush his fingers through his bangs. "You have any homework?"

"No," now Sam looked almost offended, and Connor suppressed a smile. "I can do some of Dean's."

It would have sounded ridiculous with any other fourth-grader, except Sam could in fact cope with a sizeable portion of Dean's eighth-grade homework – maybe better than Dean could. Having Sam do Dean's schoolwork wasn't something either Dad or Connor encouraged, but Connor thought that under these circumstances, it was the least of their worries.

"Sure, knock yourself out," he told his brother. Sam gave him a half-smile and went back to the coffee table.

There was a clock hanging on the wall of the room; it actually wasn't working – Connor had wondered if it was kept there for the sole purpose of decoration rather than helping guests tell the time – but in the silence that fell, Connor could almost hear it ticking, like some ghost clock was haunting it.

He pretended to be going over the local papers, but he was really watching Dean, Sam and his watch alternately. Dean hardly moved a muscle, and Connor wanted to tell him to quit it, to come out of the corner, but he didn't bother; Dean was under Dad's orders now, and there was no way Connor could overrule those.

Their room was on the second floor of the motel, so Connor couldn't hear the Impala pull up to the building. But he kept his ear open and managed to hear approaching footsteps that had to have been Dad's. He got up and opened the door just as Dad was pulling out his key.

He could see Dad's minute alarm, the way his eyes widened and his hand reached for his gun. But he came to immediately and smiled at Connor. "Hi."

"Hi," Connor said. He didn't move from the door. "Can we have a word?"

Dad's eyes wandered over Connor's shoulder into the room, and then back to his face. "Let me put the duffel down."

"I got it," Connor took the bag from his father and turned to place it inside, when Sam squeezed by him.

"Dad!"

"Hey, kiddo," Dad crouched and spread his arms for his youngest and Connor put the duffel by the door and watched Dad hug Sam and run his hand through his hair. "Still didn't get your hair cut?"

"Daaaad," Sam half-whined, but Connor could tell by his voice he was smiling.

"How did the Show and Tell at school go? Did you knock 'em dead?"

"It was great! D'ya wanna hear about it?"

Dad leaned back a little to look into Sam's face. "Sure, I wanna hear all about it. But in just a little while, okay? I need to sort something out with your brothers."

Sam glanced up at Connor, seeming to suddenly remember there was something else going on. He looked back at Dad and nodded.

Dad stood up and reached into his pocket. "Here, go down to the car, there's a crate of books in the back seat. Bobby thought you'd like to have a look at them before he dumps them in storage."

Sam took the keys Dad held out to him, and with a last peek at Connor, disappeared down the open corridor. Dad watched him go while Connor stepped out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

"I already handled it," he said.

"Apparently, not all that well," Dad replied calmly.

Connor felt heat rise in his cheeks. "No disrespect, sir, but if you leave me in charge, then you trust me to take care of things."

"Dean was the one to call me."

Connor couldn't help but scoff. "Oh, we go by Dean's judgment now? If he had his way, he'd sleep till noon and spend the rest of the day stuffing his face with burgers."

Dad seemed unfazed. "You know this isn't what I meant. And you also know Dean doesn't usually go over your head; this obviously mattered to him enough to do that. I can't ignore it."

Connor couldn't deny that logic. But he couldn't let Dad go through with whatever he was going to do, either. "You can't punish him again for the same thing, that's unfair."

"It's fair if he wasn't actually punished for it the first time."

Connor's cheeks heated even further. "Did he say that?!"

"He wasn't clear on that and I wasn't going to get to the bottom of it over the phone, anyway," Dad replied. "You done?"

Connor wasn't even remotely done, but he made himself bite back his next argument. More talking wasn't going to make a difference. "Yes, sir."

Dad nodded and Connor moved out of his way as he stepped forward.

Inside the room, Dean was still standing in the corner; he had undoubtedly heard Dad coming and took extra care to hold a proper position.

Dad didn't seem to be in any hurry as he took off his coat and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair, then walked to the bedroom area. He stood there for a minute, looking at Dean. Connor could imagine how Dean was feeling, knowing those sharp hazel eyes were sizing him up. He had to hand it to the kid for not moving so much as a muscle.

At last Dad spoke. "Dean, front and center."

Dean winced for just a fraction of a second when Dad started to speak, then he turned and came to stand before him. He was looking straight ahead, his gaze leveled at Dad's chest.

"Eyes on me," Dad said. Dean obeyed. "Report."

Dean pulled his shoulders back slightly. "Got detention at school, sir."

"What for?"

"Putting a firecracker in Ms. Turner's desk drawer, sir."

"That's the only thing?"

"No, sir. I put a grasshopper in her drawer before that. And glue on her chair before that."

Connor could see the corner of Dad's mouth twitching, so slightly it was almost imperceptible.

"You don't like that teacher, do you?"

Dean blinked, obviously not ready for that specific question. "She… she said in front of the whole class that if it was up to her, I would've been held back at least twice by now."

Dad's lips tightened for a second, then loosened. "And Connor punished you?"

"Yes, sir."

Dad nodded; Connor was amazed at how this little gesture made him feel relieved, as if the old man was affirming his judgment. "Then tell me why you called me about it."

"Because it was _shit_ ," Dean blurted out with sudden heat. "He spanked me over his knee like a _kid_. And he didn't even use the strap, just a damned _belt_."

If Dad was surprised by that outburst, he didn't show it. "How is this punishment different from last month when you got the same?"

Dean looked at him like he was dense. "They called me to the office," he said. "The principal and the school counselor. They asked me where we live, where you were. I saw how they were looking at my clothes and my shoes, even though they're clean and all. And they made Connor come get me, they saw my legal guardian was just a fucking _teen_. They were _this close_ to calling CPS, I know they were. And it's because of me, because I just _had_ to play those stupid fucking pranks on that stupid fucking teacher." Dean stopped to wipe a tear that slipped down his cheek.

Dad kept looking at Dean calmly, as unfazed by his fiery little monologue as he was by Connor's words before. "How many are there, do you think?"

"What?" Dean wiped his sleeve over his nose.

"Poor kids at your school."

Dean was clearly thrown off balance. "I don't… I don't know."

"It's not a high-end private school. This part of town ain't exactly all white-picket fences, and I bet at least a few of the kids come from the trailer park on the other side of the block. You're nothing they haven't seen before, Dean."

Dean was staring at Dad with his eyes wide, lips somewhat parted.

"As for Connor, his driver's license says he's twenty-one, and I don't see why the principal and the counselor should doubt what bartenders and cops don't."

Dean looked completely dumbfounded as he kept looking at Dad with the same bewildered expression.

"I don't think there was any real danger of the school calling CPS, so I don't see any problem with the punishment Connor gave you," Dad said. "But there's a different problem here. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"No, sir," Dean was near-whispering. Connor hoped Dad wasn't going to turn the question over to him, because he had no fucking clue what the answer was.

"Who's in charge in this family?" Dad asked. His voice dropped a notch, and it carried a rumble that sounded to Connor like the growl of an alpha wolf asserting its dominance.

Dean must have felt it too, because he almost took a step back, halting at the last moment, and his gaze dropped. "You are, sir."

"Eyes up here," Dad said. Dean immediately snapped his head back up. Dad nodded. "That's right, I'm in charge. And when I'm not here?"

Dean flashed a brief glance at Connor. "Connor's in charge, sir."

Dad nodded again. "Why is he in charge when I'm gone?"

"He's the oldest."

"Yes, but it's not only that. Age isn't the only criteria for a good captain, a good leader. Connor's proven to me in the past that I can rely on him to take care of things, and I trust him. If I didn't, I wouldn't've left you and Sammy in his care for a second. You understand?"

Dean glanced at Connor again, longer this time. "Yes, sir."

"Because of that, when he's in charge – whatever order he gives, you follow. Whatever decision he makes, you accept. A squad, a division, a company – they can never function in battle like they should when discipline and obedience aren't observed, or when the chain of command is broken. And neither can this family. So unless Connor mistreats you, or doesn't take care of you, or hurts you or Sammy-" Dad's voice cracked for just a second before returning to its former confidence. "Unless he does that, you have no permission to go behind his back like you did. You need to talk to me about something he did that you disagree with, you ask him if you may call me, or you wait till I come back and we talk about it together. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay," Dad straightened his back some. "What happened at school, that's over and done with as far as I'm concerned. Connor took care of it, and it's enough for me. But breaking the chain of command-" his eyebrows drew together. "That we're gonna deal with right now."

Dean only managed to utter the "yes, sir" on his second attempt.

Dad turned to Connor. "Which belt did you use?"

Connor didn't understand what he was talking about at first, but then he came to and touched the belt he was wearing. "I think this one, sir."

"Give it to me," Dad said and turned back to Dean.

"Sir, you don't want me to get the strap?" Dean sounded hesitant; Connor thought maybe he was debating with himself if he should have even reminded Dad of the hated implement.

"Not this time. Pants down, hands on the arm of the couch."

Dean walked the few steps over to the couch, peeking at the belt Connor was unbuckling and pulling out of his jeans. Dad held his hand out, and Connor placed the belt in it. Dad followed Dean, pacing much slower, giving the kid time to push his jeans and boxers down and to bend over to rest his palms on the arm of the couch. Connor moved too, so he could get a better view.

Dad held the buckle in his palm, wrapped the belt around his hand once, and closed his fist on it. "Just so we're clear," he said. "You're not being punished for getting in trouble at school. Why is that?"

"Connor took care of it, sir."

"He did. What are you being punished for?"

"Breaking the chain of command, sir," Dean replied. "Going over Connor's head. Not… not trusting him." He craned his neck a little to look at Connor. "I'm so sorry, Connie. I trust you, I really do. I'm sorry I went behind your back, I won't do it again."

Connor didn't expect a lump to suddenly rise in his throat. "I forgive you, buddy."

"Thank you," Dean said quietly, then returned to stare at his hands.

Dad gave Dean's back a little rub and swiped up the tail of his flannel. Connor could see Dean's body tense as Dad's hand left him. Dad pulled his arm back and landed the belt on Dean's ass, and Dean winced, his breath catching. Dad whipped the leather down again, and Dean's fingers dug into the fabric of the couch arm.

The belt kept striking Dean's backside, leaving horizontal stripes; they were narrower than those left by the strap, but every bit as red and flaming. It also took longer for them to merge into a single blotch, but Dad worked the belt efficiently, and soon there wasn't a single patch of skin left untouched on Dean's ass.

Connor had never experienced what the strap felt like – thank God for that – but he didn't have to in order to know it hurt considerably more than any belt. Yet watching the way Dad's arm rose and fell, and the way Dean flinched whenever the leather scorched his hide, listening to his little brother's barely-stifled cries and to his father's exhales as he administered the lashes – Connor knew this whipping was made to count.

Then, the next time Dad landed the belt, Dean's knees buckled and his body shifted.

Dad halted. "Position."

Dean corrected his pose, and Dad swung the belt again. But as it hit, Dean almost curled, his backside moving out of the line of fire. Dad stopped again.

"I said position," Dad repeated impatiently.

"I'm t-trying," Dean's words were shaky, faltering between sobbing breaths. "I'm s-s-sorry, I'm tr-trying."

Dad gave a little chagrined huff, and unwrapped the belt from around his hand. He doubled it over and held it in his right hand, stepped forward, and turned so he could wrap his left arm around Dean's waist. Holding the boy's body cinched against his side under his arm, he brought the belt down on Dean's ass.

Dean wailed, but immediately raised one hand to his mouth so he could bite the sleeve. His other hand still rested on the arm of the couch, but he didn't need it to brace himself – Dad's hold on him was firm as he continued to work the belt.

From the sound of leather on flesh and the way Dean flinched with each lash, Connor could tell Dad was making up for the lack of swing he had in this position. Dean's ass was already wickedly red, his cries muffled by his sleeve but still were very much audible. Connor didn’t think he could stand witnessing this for much longer.

But Dad wasn't going to test his eldest's limits. He was obviously just about to finish up when he changed the position, and now he applied two more swats to the back of Dean's thighs, paused for a long moment breathing in and out, and tossed the belt aside.

"Enough," he said softly. "Enough. C'mere." He let go of Dean's waist and straightened him up. Dean was shaking, his breath heaving in agonized sobs. Dad didn't even try to make him stand on his own; he hugged him fiercely, leaning his head so he could rest his cheek against Dean's temple. "It's all over now, all over. You're forgiven."

With the way Dean was burrowing into Dad, Connor could see only a tuft of his blond hair above Dad's arm. Dad was rubbing Dean's back, up and down and then in circles, rocking slightly as he did. Connor couldn't be sure Dean was crying; the kid was so deeply submerged in Dad's hug, sound could barely escape.

It was a while until Dean started wriggling slightly in Dad's hold, and Dad gently moved him back to standing. He bent to pull up Dean's boxers, and Dean gave a visible wince when Dad slid them over his ass.

"You wanna take the jeans off?" Dad asked. Dean nodded. Dad bent again and unlaced Dean's sneakers, then took hold of his arm and helped him step out of the shoes and pants. He glanced over at Connor. "Get him some sweats or something."

Connor needed a few seconds before he shook himself into action and went to Dean's duffel. The strap was still lying on top of the heap of contents inside the bag, and Connor stuffed it all the way to the bottom before digging out a pair of sweatpants and zipping the duffel closed.

When he got back to where his father and little brother were, Dad was sitting on the arm of the couch, stroking Dean's hair with one hand while his other hand cupped Dean's jaw, the thumb rubbing gently over his cheek. Dean's eyes were lowered, and he was still sniffling a little.

"Dean, this life of ours, is and always will be more demanding than the life of these other kids at your school. It demands more discipline, more foresight, more resilience and patience. You think that's unfair, don't you?"

Dean didn't reply, but Dad nodded as if he did.

"I served my country in 'Nam, and I go on serving it, serving all of mankind, every day. It's an honor, but it comes at a price; because the fight is out there, not here with you. When I'm here, when I'm available, you can talk to me whenever you want, about anything you want. You know that, don't you, son?" Dean nodded without looking up, and Dad added, "But when I'm not, someone always is. Connor, Uncle Bobby, Pastor Jim. And if it's me you want, then here's a valuable lesson: sometimes you need to hold your breath a little longer. That's how you reach the shore. Even with Ms. Turner."

A faint smile touched Dean's lips, and Dad smiled as well.

"Eyes on me, Dean," there was a world of difference in his tone now, and the one he had used when he said the same words not so long ago.

Dean looked up at him, and Dad wiped his thumb under Dean's eyes. "But as far as disagreeing with your brother's decisions, I trust you to know when it's right to go behind his back, and when it's not. You get me?"

Dean nodded again. "I'm sorry I made the wrong call."

"It's over and done with. Clean slate," Dad tugged at Dean, pulling him into a hug again, and Dean willingly leaned against him, resting his head on Dad's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his neck. "I know you're going to learn from this, aren't you?" Dean nodded against Dad's shoulder. "Good boy."

Connor saw Dean shifting a little; it looked like he was shaking his head now. Dad smiled and raised a hand to cup the back of Dean's head.

"You are," he whispered. "You hear me? You are. You're my good boy."

Dean didn't reply. He just moved so he could hide his face in the crook of Dad's neck, and Dad's fingers caressed his hair lightly.

Connor put the sweatpants down on the back of the nearby armchair, and silently moved away toward the door. He should see what Sam is up to, anyway, and bring him back.

He only made it to the staircase when Sam huffed his way up, barely visible behind a stack of books. Connor steadied him just before he tripped over the last step and went sprawling, and took the books out of his hands.

"I can't believe Uncle Bobby was going to store these!" Sam exclaimed. "There's some _great_ stuff in here!"

Connor couldn't help his smile. "Right, take it easy, buddy."

When they were back inside the room, Dad looked up from where he was sitting with Dean on the couch. The TV was on. "Hey, Sammy, find something you like?"

"Yeah!" Sam turned to the books Connor was carrying, obviously meaning to snatch them back to show them to Dad, but Connor moved them out of his reach.

"Later," he said quietly. "Just go sit with them, okay?"

Sam glanced at the couch, then back at Connor and nodded. He walked over in a much calmer manner to sit by Dad's other side. Connor put the books on the kitchen table – he would have to dust them before he let Sam handle them any further – pulled the flask out of Dad's duffel, poured two fingers of scotch into a tumbler, and took it over to the couch.

Dad was sitting in the middle, with Sam on his left. On his right, Dean was curled and tucked into his side like a kitten seeking warmth, with Dad's arm secured around him and Dean's hand fisting into Dad's flannel. The light from the TV played on their faces.

Connor held out the tumbler and Dad smiled gratefully at him as he took it. "Why don't you sit down? _The Dukes of Hazzard_ 's about to start."

There was no more room on the couch, so Connor took a seat in the armchair and Dad turned his attention back to the TV, sipping his drink. Connor watched the screen for a minute or so, but his gaze drifted back to the couch.

It was all there, all of his family. The people he cared most about, and who cared about him. There was a wave washing inside him, gentle and warm and consuming that made his eyes sting.

The show's theme song started to play, and Connor found he was able to look away from the couch. At least for tonight, he knew where his family was. That was all that mattered, really. To him, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

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